


Taking a Stand (Better Late Than Never, Right?)

by Tricksandarrows



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-15
Updated: 2013-08-15
Packaged: 2017-12-23 15:07:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/927934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tricksandarrows/pseuds/Tricksandarrows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gabe is all ready to skip town and leave the Winchesters and the other gods on their own for their suicide mission of confronting Lucifer, but something makes him change his mind. What is it? And what's running through his mind as he finally stands up to his big brother?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Taking a Stand (Better Late Than Never, Right?)

**Author's Note:**

> So this little one-shot came about rather differently than I'd intended it to be, but overall I think I like it. I tried to challenge myself by writing in present tense, and holy hell is that hard to do! This is also something that hasn't been proofread or anything, so any and all mistakes are mine due to a lack of sleep.

> For you, my darling,  
>              I stopped  
>                        R U N N I N G.

Cool leather presses against the archangel’s back as he steels himself for what’s about to come. The moment his brother steps foot in the hotel, Gabriel knows it. It’s why he’s hiding in the back seat of this rust bucket the Winchesters call a car. He knows exactly what’s about to happen to all the pagan gods he once claimed as family and friends.

Lucifer will spare them nothing, will not hesitate in killing them for what he sees as sacrilege and a slight against their Father.

There is no way any of those fools can stand up against his brother, and he knows that, so he’s going to do what he does best—he’s going to run.

Better to get going before the going gets tough and all that jazz.

The only problem is that Kali has his blood, meaning he can’t possibly leave in this vessel. She has him on a short leash, even now after ‘killing’ him, and he’s screwed. He doesn’t want to leave his vessel. He’s grown accustomed to it, has formed an attachment to the man who’d once been known as Dagr Gyllenson before saying “yes” to the archangel. To just leave him lifeless in the back of this car seems cruel and unfair to the memory of the man, but there is no other way around it. He’s only hoping he can convince another vessel to say yes to him before the rest of his siblings are alerted to his still being alive and kicking.

He’s all prepared to leave, sending a silent prayer to his Father, knowing that it will go unanswered but still finding comfort in the simple action when something stops him mid-prayer.

_“Why don't you sack up and help us take down Lucifer?”_

Now why would those words come to mind?

Before he can shake those words away, more come to the forefront of his mind, stilling him instantly.

_“And for the record? This isn't about some prize fight between your brothers or some destiny that can't be stopped. This is about you being too afraid to stand up to your family.”_

What is this? Stroll down memory lane with the Winchesters?

He rolls his eyes and is all prepared to leave, but there’s a nagging sensation in the back of his head, one he hasn’t felt in so long—since leaving his home and his siblings behind. Something telling him that what he’s about to do isn’t the right thing, and he can almost laugh at the idea.

How is wanting to survive not the right thing? It’s all he’s ever wanted, right?

 _W r o n g_.

He can’t even lie to himself about that, which is saying something considering he’s known for his silvertongue.

Once upon a time, there was nothing he cared more for than the happiness of his brothers and sisters, especially that of the other archangels. His older brothers—the ones he remembers looking up to so fondly and loving more than himself—they were who he cared for, who he  _still_  cares for. And he wants to smite the bastards who reminded him of that fact, but it’s pointless, and he knows that he can’t do that. Not without pissing off two of his older brothers.

Swearing to no one but himself, he shakes his head. Those damned Winchesters really know how to get to a guy. He knows what he has to do, knows he can’t keep running from his problems, and he hates it, but not as much as he hates knowing that those two knuckleheads are right.

He can’t let his brothers keep this up. All it’ll do is end up with the destruction of their Father’s creations, and despite the guy just up and disappearing on all of them, Gabriel can’t let that happen.

Without another thought, he disappears from the back of the Impala and appears beside the brothers, completely unnoticed for the moment.

> For you, my dear,  
>              I took a  
>                        S T A N D.

Shit shit shit shit shit.

The rest of the gods fared exactly as he expected, and he doesn’t even want to think about what he just witnessed Lucifer did to Baldur. Yeah, the guy is—was—a dick, but Gabe feels pity for the poor bastard. That really couldn’t’ve been a fun way to go, but as he thinks about it and all he’s seen his brother done, he knows that it’s not the worst thing Lucifer could’ve done to the god.

When the sasquatch asks Dean if he’s alright, it’s Gabriel who answer him.

“Not really. Better late than never, huh?”

He sees the surprise in both hunters’ eyes. Neither one of them had expected him to show up, and he can’t say he blames them for thinking the worst of him. He’s not really given them a reason to think anything else, especially the eldest Winchester who’s looking at him in complete and utter disbelief before pulling up that mask of his.

Maybe… Maybe if they had more time to chit chat, Dean would call him out on the sudden change of heart, would ask him something along the lines of ‘Why’re you doing this?’ and all he’d say in response is ‘Call it returning the favor’ followed by a cheeky little wink he knows gets under the hunter’s skin so much. Because what’s life without ruffling a few feathers? Especially if those feathers belonged to one with the name of ‘Winchester’.

But they don’t have that sort of time, and the conversation is short, clipped. He shoves the DVD into the older Winchester’s hands, passes on his message, and then prepares himself for the most reckless and foolish thing he’s ever done, and that’s saying something given his past history.

Steeling himself, taking a deep breath, he moves to make a stand, letting his brother know of his presence. Archangel blade in hand—this time, the real deal—he stands before his big brother—the first time in many millennia.

If his heart clenches and swells with love, adoration, and sadness at the sight of his brother—both in his natural form and in his vessel—he doesn’t give any indication of it.

“Luci, I’m home.”

> For you, my sweet,  
>              I did it   
>                        A L L.

This is it—Gabriel’s final stand against his brother.

He already knows the outcome of this particular mission. He knows he can’t possibly win; he can’t kill his brother no more than Dean can kill Sam and vice versa. He simply can’t bring himself to be the one who plunges that blade through Lucifer, to be the one who has to stand there and watch as the light bleeds from his brother’s eyes. There’s no way.

Despite whatever it is the Winchesters think he’s doing, this isn’t about him ending the apocalypse. It’s not his job. He’s not worthy of that. Not worthy of so much. His intentions might not be obvious to those two, but it doesn’t matter. His mission is different.

He might not be worthy of being the one to put an end to the apocalypse, but that doesn’t mean he can’t help out in the only way he knows he can, and maybe…just maybe…he can buy those two knuckleheads some time. It won’t be much, he knows that, but it’ll be enough for them to escape and get to safety. And he’s managed to give them the clue they need in order to put an end to this whole mess his family had started, so at least this isn’t in complete vain.

He might as well call it what it is

This is a sacrifice—nothing more than another pawn being used as fodder to allow the queen another chance to trap the king into checkmate. And he’s strangely okay with that.

Next to his children, this is probably the best thing he’s done in his long life since he fled from his home, and for a moment he thinks that maybe he won’t fail the Winchesters like he failed his children. He hopes he doesn’t.

So he does what he does best: he keeps talking, keeps stalling.

He doesn’t really think about his responses to Lucifer, the retorts coming as easily as they always did whenever they bantered all those lifetimes ago. But his time’s running out, and both archangels know it.

He doesn’t want to die, no, but it’s the only thing that will allow the others to get to safety and more than likely regroup with his little brother and that crazy old hunter who stepped up and took over the position of father figure in their lives when theirs no longer could. And that? Well, that was worth dying for because if anyone could put an end to this and save his Father’s creation, it’s those stubborn ass Winchesters and his foolhardy kid brother who is so much better than him, better than Lucifer, and Michael, and even Raphael if he’s being honest. Because Castiel  _believes_  in something and doesn’t just follow orders like Mikey and Raphael do, he isn’t throwing a tantrum that their Father doesn’t love him most like Luci, and he never runs from his problems like he has.

If he has to die for anything, he’s proud that it’s for the one thing that’s always meant most to him: family.

The conversation is coming to a close. His dupe is almost over, which means his time is almost up.

He won’t kill his brother, even if he is tricking him into believing that he will. He loves him too much to do it. But to die at his hands and for a cause? That’s not so bad. So when he feels the sharp and col blade pierce through the flesh of his vessel and shred his grace, he doesn’t fight it. He simply clutches onto Lucifer tightly.

For a brief moment, there's a flicker of hope. Maybe he'll be lucky and will be able to finally see his daughter once this is over...

And then he remembers...

Yeah right. Him, lucky.

The idea is damn right laughable.

He knows what is coming, what to expect once his grace is torn to shreds and he's dead. He won't exist. Nothing awaits him.

Millions upon millions of atoms will eventually be scattered throughout the universe—universes—and those aren’t even  _his_  atoms. They’re Dagr Gyllenson’s; they’re all that will be left of him, what he gets for ever agreeing to become Gabriel’s vessel for all this time. It’s his payment for service to a being who most would consider to be greater than him but who’s in reality not even worthy of the human’s sacrifice.

As for Gabriel, as for his grace, he and it will simply…cease to exist. There will be nothing to try and piece back together because his Father never had a contingency plan for something happening to his eldest sons, so unless Dad decides him worthy to bring back, this is all that awaits him.

(And he doubts that Father will even spare a thought to him after all he’s done, and he doesn’t blame Him, doesn’t expect to be brought back.)

There will be nothing left besides mere memories of those who knew him and perhaps a few unanswered prayers that people send his way.

That is the fate that awaits him--awaits all angels who bite the dust. And he knows it.

Perhaps it won't be so bad a part of himself says. It might be best for all that there isn't going to be anything left of him. After all, some sort of remains means proof of what's happened, and he's certain that no one wants to be reminded of his cowardice or his too late, piss poor attempt at a self-sacrificing, sanctimonious stand against his brother.

Not a single iota of him having ever existed except in the memories of those who knew him...

The cruelty of his own thoughts coming back to that fact over and over again doesn’t surprise him, not like it would have if he hadn’t spent so many centuries on Earth under a completely different guise than who he’s always been. He’s known for a long time that he isn’t the son he used to be, nor is he the brother that the angels once knew and love. His time away from Heaven, from his siblings—it’s left him twisted and cruel and cold and  _t a i n t e d_ when compared to who he used to be.

His thoughts turn once more to a darker place than he wishes for them to, but he can’t fight it.

Is he even recognizable to Lucifer anymore?

Does he still see that young and rash and impulsive little brother that he taught to play pranks on the others, or does he see the deformed and wretched mask of Loki—of the Trickster?

The idea of his brother seeing the latter rather than the former pains him more than the feel of the sharp blade twisting into his grace, and his grip on the older archangel tightens just a bit more.

He doesn’t know how long it’s been from the moment the blade slipped so easily through the skin and muscles and organs of his vessel, but it doesn’t matter to him. What is time to an ancient and ageless creature such as him? Why does it matter if he knows whether it’s been seconds or ages since his own blade has been driven through him?

He can feel that he doesn’t have much longer. Soon, everything that makes him who he is will be destroyed, so he allows himself one last thing.

He slips into a memory of long ago—of a time when he and his brothers were much happier than they are right now.

He goes to a time before humans. Back when it was just the four of them and Lucifer was teaching him the ropes of creating mischief with Michael being the victim of this prank.

_“Come now, Gabriel,” Lucifer said, kneeling down beside his youngest brother. Gabriel was currently sitting cross-legged on the floor, a cloudy look of annoyance on his face. “You can do better than that. Remember what I told you, concentrate on what it is you want and will it into existence.”_

_Gabriel’s face screwed up tightly at that before taking on a look of complete and utter concentration took over, trying to picture the trap he’d wanted to spring on Michael for making him slip up during his flight days before. He didn’t know how Lucifer made it seem so easy, so effortless, but he was growing more and more agitated the longer it took him to succeed._

_The warm chuckle of his older brother broke his concentration, and he opened his bright honey golden eyes to peer up at him, a small pout marring his lips._

_“I can’t do this, brother,” he said dejectedly. “I’m not as strong or as powerful as you or Michael, or even Raphael!”_

_There was a ruffling of his hair, and he swatted at the hand, a look of exasperation lighting the caramel colored eyes of the youngest archangel._

_“That’s not true, Gabriel, and you know it,” Lucifer chided, and despite his words, his blue eyes showed nothing but kindness and love for the youngest archangel. “Father made us equal in strength and power. You simply need to practice more. Now come on, try it again, but this time, instead of concentrating on getting back at Michael, think about how the trap works.”_

He’s brought back to present day, and his heart swells at the memory.

There’s a part of him telling him not to give in and to get mad, to fight back, and though he knows he probably has every right to rage against this, to hate his brother for killing him instead of backing down from his desire for petty revenge, he doesn’t. Eyes widened in pain, mouth parted in honest surprise at how much this actually  _hurts_ , hands clutching onto his big brother, he can only think of three final words before he’s no more:

_I forgive you._

> For you, my love,  
>              I gave my  
>                        L I F E.

No longer is there Loki, god of mischief and mayhem, wreaking a little havoc for his own amusement and making people pay for their misdeeds. The prayers and offerings of those who still believe in him will go unheard and unanswered, and no one will be the wiser.

No longer is there the Trickster, taking a personal sense of pleasure and satisfaction in causing hell for the Winchesters or serving some sweet just desserts to those who deserve it. So many people that he would once take pleasure in punishing will go unpunished, never knowing the fate they have been spared.

No longer is there a Father, one who loved his children and did whatever he could for them only to fail them when they needed him most. His children might feel a strange discontent, may feel the unsettling sense that something isn’t quite right, but none will be able to figure out just what is wrong.

No longer is there Gabriel, the archangel, the Messenger of God, a man who loved his family so much that he couldn’t bear to see them fight, but  who perhaps loved himself a little more, running away like a coward rather than staying and trying to put an end to the fight before it ever got this far out of hand, and who loved his Father most of all that he doesn’t even think twice about sacrificing himself so that his Dad’s most prized creation has a chance to survive and thrive.

He isn’t a hero.

But maybe this one good deed will be enough to make up for at least a little bit of his past mistakes.

_“I wish this were a TV show. Easy answers, endings wrapped up in a bow. But this is real, and it’s gonna end bloody for all of us. That’s just how it’s gotta be.”_


End file.
